Power Surge Uncut
by Syntia13
Summary: BW. A part of 'Power Surge' that didn't make it to the show. Warnings: slash, crossfaction, first time, and a passionate, robotic intercourse under the influence.


_**A/N:** Well... not much to say. Just be sure to read the warnings, OK?  
**Disclaimer:** Only that twisted little scene is mine. (As if it wasn't obvious.)_

**Power Surge Uncut  
**  
_A part of 'Power Surge' that didn't make it to the show ;)  
Warning for: PWP, slash, cross-faction, first time, and a passionate, robotic intercourse under the influence._

-

-

-

_A massive form of a mountain drifted slowly above the plains. The air around it crackled with static. It was a once in an era phenomenon. Pity no one ever truly appreciated it_.  
-

Terrorsaur navigated carefully through the floating debris, making his way toward the main rock. The currents were particularly unpredictable here, and he was having a hard time, but the ambition pressed him forward. He was not going to cower before some flying mineral! And whatever managed to lift the whole mountain to the air could prove useful for him - if he could find it, that is. Terrorsaur landed on the nearest ledge, and looked around carefully. At the first glance it seemed to be just a big piece of rock in the middle of an extremely strong energy field. At the second, he noticed thin energon veins, shining shyly under the surface, few courageous crystals even piercing it. Terrorsaur terrorized and reached for the nearest glimmering piece to scan it.

_/CRACKLE/_

The discharge hurled him back to the air, and he beastmoded out of reflex. It paid off to have reflexes like that on a planet so crazily rich with energon. Unfortunately, this time it was too late - the highly concentrated, specifically polarized energy was already wrecking havoc in Terrorsaur's circuits.  
Behold: instant over-charge.

&&&&&&&&

Few hundred meters below, a young cheetah ended his chase after the red Predacon with a skidding halt, and he looked around in awe.  
Big fragments of raw energon crystals lay scattered under the intimidating blob of the mountain, gleaming invitingly. True to the nature of teenagers and cats everywhere, Cheetor gave in to the curiosity. He maximized, touched one lump, and yelped as the discharge tossed him over ten meters away.  
"Ow, aw! Watch out, it bites!" Cheetor scrambled to his feet, and swayed. "Oh, jumping gyros," he murmured, grabbing a convenient tree for support, for once meaning it literally. The entire world was spinning like a Galaxy Coaster in the 'Lasers over Cybertron' amusement park. Which wasn't all that bad, actually. A small giggle escaped Cheetor's voice-box, but then a familiar screech above brought his mind back to focus...for a while.

&&&&&&&&

Terrorsaur stumbled in the air, which was an accomplishment in itself, cursed, tried to straighten up his course, and ended up flopping his wings in an unbelievably out-of-sync rhythm. Annoyed, he screeched out his frustration. What the Pit was wrong with him? Seconds later few plasma shots seared past him, and though at first he just looked after them in bewilderment, he soon got a grip, terrorized, and searched for the attacker.

Oh. Just Cheetor. Not a problem at all. He casually aimed his gun at the annoying maximal cheetah.  
Two annoying maximal cheetahs.  
Three annoying maximal cheetahs.

"Shtop multiflying, fraggit!" the flyer slurred.

But the Maximal obviously felt disinclined to oblige, and persisted in being in three places at once. Peeved beyond reason, Terrorsaur swooped down to get them.

After few false starts, Terrorsaur managed to locate the _right_ Cheetor, and then, using the unfair advantage of flight, size, and experience in dirty street fighting, he promptly disarmed the younger bot, and pinned him to the ground.

"EY!" Cheetor squirmed frantically. "Get off me!"

Yeah, right. Terrorsaur snorted and prepared shoulder cannons to blast the young Maximal into oblivion, when said Maximal wriggled again, in futile attempt to free himself. Having a slightly smaller frame wriggling beneath him instantly triggered a set of memories of a nature entirely different from fighting. Confronted with those memories, the angry, freckled face below suddenly seemed so funny, that Terrorsaur couldn't help but rest his forehead on Cheetor's, and chuckle for a long while.

After a moment of gaping up at him, Cheetor chuckled as well, and so they lay, laughing together, until the Maximal wrestled one hand free and gave Terrorsaur's shoulder a small punch. "Wasso funny?"

"Eh?" Terrorsaur stopped laughing and raised his head, his optics flickering in a surprised blink. He gave the question some thought, but, come storm or strike, he couldn't remember what it was that they were laughing about.

"Donno," he admitted with a disarming honesty. "Sooo..." He heroically carried on the conversation, squinting at the red symbol and a dark face beneath it. "...Where I found you, pretty?" He received a blank look, and sniggered. "Ya don remember either, eh?"

The Predacon tried to search his databanks. Where could he find himself such a sweet piece of maximal metal? ... Oh, shock with that. What's the difference? The other bot was young, pretty, and at least vaguely familiar. And look at all those freckles. He loved freckles! Terrorsaur bowed his head, with every intention of kissing every each and one of them.

Cheetor gasped. The sensation of having his face dusted with kisses didn't trigger any of his memories at all. Instead, it went straight for that greedy and overactive part of processor every young transformer have, and it instantly took over all the cognitive functions, overrode any remaining coherent thoughts, and sent through the Maximal's circuits a wave of energy that screamed: 'gimmegimmegimme!'

Cheetor's hands shot up to the red helmet, pulling Terrorsaur closer.

"Mphmm," Terrorsaur said approvingly, tilting his head slightly, and then uttered a muffled curse, as his chin-guard bumped into the side of kid's helmet. Stupid gadget! He raised a hand and fumbled for a small catch that would retract it. After few tries, he pulled back from a rather interesting kiss with a growl. Where was this stupid catch?  
"Frrgh!" Cheetor protested eloquently, and groped for Terrorsaur's face. As the chance had it, his finger slipped right into the narrow space between red and white metal, and brushed over the small button. With a noise like a rusted rotor blade the chin-guard retracted, and Terrorsaur sniggered again, both at the sound, and the coincidence. Cheetor responded in kind, and they pulled closer, exploring each other's laughing lips eagerly.

Only when his internal systems whined loudly against overheating did Cheetor pull away, gasping for cooling air. His face was almost instantly attacked with kisses, and he meowed lightly, grabbing for some kind of support, to cling to the slipping reality. His fingers slid on a cool metal, and reached a warm, leathery surface. The contrast was intriguing enough to make him pause and trace the edges where the two substances met. Above him there was a surprised gasp, and the leathery bits convulsed under his fingers, tickling them. Suppressing a giggle, Cheetor repeated the caress, and was rewarded with another gasp-turned-moan, and a wriggle of the bot on top of him. His optics gleaming mischievously, Cheetor closed his fingers around the sharp leathery edges, and stroked his thumbs on the softer surface attached to them. Stroke, moan, wriggle. Fun!

Terrorsaur moaned and wriggled, as the supersensitive tips of his wings mounted on his shoulders convulsed under the kid's hands. They were folding and unfolding like parts of a broken fan, one moment pressing closely to his arms, the next stretching out to almost painful extends.

Flyers' wings are always spiked with sensors, to pick up the slightest changes in the air currents, and the beast mode had added the whole sensor array of its own. Added to the overcharged state and the high power-levels all around, the kid's ministrations had an effect powerful as an electro-whip. Blinded by the lights flashing behind his optics, Terrorsaur gasped and writhed. Too soon, too much, oh Primus!  
Control, regain the control...

Getting hold of himself, Terrorsaur reset his optics and glared down, at the drunkenly evil delight on the dark face. Having fun, are we? This called for REVENGE!  
He pushed himself up, pulling his arms free and straddling the young bot's hips, and let his hands roam the unfamiliar body. Tugging at the furry ears earned him some very nice little mewls, and probing at the seam between the chest-plate and chassis resulted with wild wriggling and giggles. Ticklish, eh? Sniggering, Terrorsaur dove for a kiss, and out of the corner of his optic he registered a hand, reaching eagerly for his wingtip. Oh no you don't!  
He swayed, flailed, and almost fell to the ground, but he managed to intercept the offending limb, even if he ended laughing himself silly into the soft fur on the kid's chest-plate. Actually, he realized, this was nice.  
He rubbed his face against the fur again for confirmation. Ooooh yeah. Very new, very nice. Terrorsaur sighed excitedly, and pushed himself slightly up, to feel this velvety touch on his whole chest-plate.  
There was a sudden flash of warning red lights behind his optics, and a painful discharge danced on his metal. Terrorsaur screeched, lost his balance and fell prone on the kid's body. One of his hands caught in a part of kid's alt-mode, sticking above his shoulders, and Terrorsaur felt the static jumping between them.

The energy surged through Cheetor's neuronet, flaring up every single sensor, from the neck, down his back, and further to the tips of his feet. Cheetor cried out and arched, thrashing violently, and when the fires died out, he went limp, gasping. Oh Primus. Oh, oh sweet Primus. What was _that_?

Terrorsaur chuckled. By sheer accident he'd found the kid's number one sweet spot. He leered triumphantly, then chocked out a small 'eh?' at the look of utter bewilderment on the kid's face. What, didn't he know he was sensitive there?  
"Jusswait," he slurred, "it gets better."

Some part of his processor was trying to draw his attention to that energy surge, and the really crazy power level readings, but he happily ignored it. He didn't care if they were near a nuclear plant or a transwarp engine at work - they were going to burn out the energy almost as fast as soaking it up. Or faster.  
With a smug smirk, Terrorsaur leaned close and blew at the shoulder guards before kissing them.

Had Cheetor been in his right mind, he'd probably marveled at the range of sounds his voice-box was capable of, from the eagle-high squeals down to guttural growls. As it was, all he could think of was... "Morrrrrrre," he purred demandingly, grabbing an armful of the red bot, determined not to let him pull away again.  
"Like that?" inquired a husky voice near his audio, and the fingers glided on the insides of his shoulder-guards in small, agitating circles.  
"Ah!" Cheetor arched, his fingers digging in the leathery back-plate. "Yeah! Yeah, like that!"  
He barely registered when one of his hands was forced off the other's back, and then guided slowly down, over the hip, to rest on the sliver thigh. There were some interesting crevices and bulges he could hold on to there, and that was fine with him.

Terrorsaur shuddered in delight, as the dark fingers started exploring his bodywork. "That's right, kid," he panted, arching slightly. "Oh yea, keep doing that."  
For a moment he buried his face in the soft fur, breathing in the smell of wind and forest, and then moved up, kissing the dark shoulder, chuckling at and evading the kid's attempts to draw his lips to the sensitive shoulder-guards, only blowing at them every now and then, making the kid meow in a disappointed ecstasy. Oh, it was priceless, those needy noises, those small wriggles, those hands on his thighs and hips, moving up and down more and more frantically, every now and then caressing the right spots _just so_.

"Mmm, yesss..." Terrorsaur bit his lip with a moan.  
He could feel the telling heat deep within his chest steadily rising, threatening to melt him from the inside out. "Oh, you're good," he breathed, capturing the kid's lips with his own, tasting metal and energon, reveling in the irregular flares of energy fields and heat waves coming from the lithe body. He was almost there...  
"Come 'ere," he whispered breathlessly, catching the kid's wrist and pulling it to his chestplate. Keeping his silver-red hand over the kid's dark one, he made him rub the rough leather in small eights, and screeched his ecstasy as the dark fingers twitched in the _just right_ place. He pushed the kid's hand away and pressed close to him, eagerly kissing his neck, chin, freckles...

Cheetor wriggled, thrilled with the attention, and let his hand wandered to the silver arm and the warm, red wingtip. It twitched under his touch, folding itself. Cheetor's fingers clenched around it automatically.

"Arrrh!" The delicious fires shot through Terrorsaur's arm, feeding the blaze already burning in his chest with a final flame.  
Writhing and panting, Terrorsaur felt his spark lashing out and pulling...

The kid cried out and pushed him away.  
Terrorsaur snarled in furious disbelieve. No. Way!  
"Open up," he demanded harshly between the gasps. The pair of golden optics gaped at him in confusion, as if the kid didn't know what he meant. Growling, Terrorsaur tried to get him again. He was not in the mood for games!

Cheetor meowed loudly at the sheer intensity of contradictory sensations. Whatever the other bot was doing, it felt like a net of warm strings of energy closing around his spark, teasing it, caressing it gently, and it felt good, oh so good, but then it _pulled_, and that _hurt_!  
He thrashed, managing to jerk one leg free, and he bent it at the knee, trying to gain a leverage to push the other bot off. "Stop!"

Terrorsaur growled like a wounded animal, paying no heed to the cry. The kid's leg was rubbing against his outer thigh, the fur teasing all the sensitive crevices there, and it was driving him crazy! Without thinking, he used a knee to force kid's legs further apart, and slipped between them.  
"Ah, yea," he moaned, thrusting lightly, letting the velvety touches travel up and down his thighs. "Oh, yea, that's good..." His spark flared fiercer with need, and reached out again. The kid's fist landed on his arm in a clumsy blow. "That hurts!"  
"Then open up!" Terrorsaur snapped, slapping the furry chest-plate lightly. The kid winced and arched weakly in an attempt to comply, but the only result was a small grinding sound in his chest cavity. Terrorsaur screeched in something between a threat and frustration. It was official now: the kid had NO idea what he was doing. Frag it! No freaking way was he going to give the brat 'the Talk' when all his sensors were screaming at the verge of overload!

With a feral growl, Terrorsaur descended on his prey, pressed his fevered face to the kid's chest-plate, and rubbed it in a spot where he could feel the young spark begging to be freed. The joyous moans encouraged him, as he kissed, and blew in the soft fur, and stroked the sensitive sides, and finally the intense stimuli did what the will couldn't. A part of the kid's chest-plate slid out of place, letting the sweet, silvery light seep out. Yes, yes, yes!

"Yes!" Terrorsaur crowed triumphantly, jerking up. He grabbed the kid's arms, pinning him in place, and slammed heavily on the smaller body, his spark lashing out again in a greedy haste.

The kid's cry was sweet and thick as syrup. He was thrashing under the flyer's weight - whether in pain or pleasure Terrorsaur neither knew nor cared. What he cared for was the kid's spark, bright as a burning ice, and that sweet, sweet cry. He leaned in to swallow it, and the kid return the kiss hungrily, but his arms continued the struggle, until Terrorsaur finally took the hint and let his hands slid up, to convulse on the yellow shoulder-guards.

Cheetor threw his head back with a cry, his optics flashing brightly. His whole body arched, as his spark sent wave after wave of burning energy, his frame almost exploding with all the pressure, and then everything got mixed up, and he could feel _everything_. His thighs spasming around his thighs, his hands on his wingtips, his hands over his shoulders, his lips gasping for air, his lips kissing his throat, his spark consuming his spark... and then his sparks became a star, burning within his shells, and the rest was a blinding bliss.

-  
_The mountain drifted slowly above two entangled figures, indifferent to the events that transpired. Its drift was taking it slowly to the area directly above the massive energon deposit buried in the ground. When the energy fields of the two completely overlapped, the mountain went /CRACKLE/, as every single crystal inside it changed the polarization.  
_-

Terrorsaur lay slumped over the yellow body, reluctant to move. It was so comfortable to just lie there, and listen to the kid's breath, sounding in perfect sync with his own, feeling his spark calming down, at precisely the same pace as his own. Yea, it was just so... no, wait, not so comfortable. The edge of kid's shoulder-guard was digging into his jaw. With a lazy sigh, Terrorsaur rubbed against the yellow helmet, pressing the small button. The chin-guard zipped back into place. Ah, that's better.  
The kid murmured something incoherent, putting his arms around the flyer's waist, and Terrorsaur chuckled smugly. It's always good to know others appreciate how good you are.

Something nagged at his processor. Not a thought, just an unnerving feeling, whispering that something wasn't exactly right, and finally he decided to give it some thought. What could be wrong with getting laid?

Oh.

"You're of age, right?" he murmured.  
"...Think so..."

After a moments' silence, they both sniggered.  
"All right," Terrorsaur declared pushing himself up. "We need a drink."  
Well, it sometimes helped with after-party memory problems.  
"Be right back," the flyer promised, patting the furry chest-plate affectionately, and then took off. He wasn't sure where they were, but there was bound to be some kind of bar somewhere...

About the time when his foggy processor finally registered the weirdness of the environment he found himself in, Terrorsaur's body shook with painful discharges. Cursing the weird energies to the Pit, he beastmoded.

Like any other action, that simple activity used up some energy - and it just happened to be the last remains of the energy the flyer had soaked up earlier.  
Behold: instant soberness.

&&&&&&&

Terrorsaur looked around in surprise. What the shock? Since when where mountains flying? He blinked at the sudden feeling of deja vu, and promptly shook it off. Whatever managed to lift the whole mountain to the air could prove useful for him - if he could find it, that is. He flew over the massive rock, and almost choked at the sight.  
"Energon! Enough to power an army!"

&&&&&&&

"Ouch! Beast mode!" The cheetah scrambled to a sitting position, his tail twitching nervously.  
Where was he, why was he there, and was he going to be in trouble because of that? He looked around, searching his databanks. He'd been on patrol, right, and he spotted Terrorsaur flying straight toward this floating piece of rock, and...

A sudden fierce screech above interrupted his thoughts, and he raised his head just in time to see Terrorsaur zooming through the air, leaving a fiery smudge in his tow.  
"Jumpin' Gyros! I've never seen Terrorsaur move like that! But he won't leave _me_ in a dust!" With a challenging roar, Cheetor launched into a chase.  
And the Beast Wars went on.

_fin_


End file.
